


Losing the Last of My Control

by JaysQueereo



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Child Abuse, Comfort/Angst, F/F, Flashbacks, Nb!Chloe Price, Non-binary!Chloe Price, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-21 01:44:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4810163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaysQueereo/pseuds/JaysQueereo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Chloe loses the last thing in the world that matters to them, they sets off across the United States to escape their demons. When an unexpected savior comes along, how do they cope with the truth coming out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. save her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chloe's point of view.
> 
> This fic is going to be really dark.
> 
> Pretty much my coping with episode 4.
> 
> Enjoy!

It hurts. God everything hurts. It feels like someone punched me all over, especially my stomach... My eyes snap open, memories flooding back to me. A feint canopy of forest leaves stretching above me. So it wasn't some horrible nightmare. I feel sick, beyond words that illness could cover. I roll over, retching what little contents my stomach contains onto the ground beside me. I snap my head up.  
Rachel?  
Oh god Rachel!  
Where is she? What did those bastards do to her?  
Head spinning, I turn, searching desperately for her. I spot her body, lying limp on the forest floor, feet away from me.  
"Rachel? Please no..."  
I force myself to crawl over to her mangled form.  
"Oh, Rachel, please, please not you."  
No. She didn't deserve this. Not her. Not this precious angel. Hands shaking, I gently press my fingers to her neck. I can't tell if there's a pulse. I'm shaking too hard.  
"This can't be real. You're going to wake up any second now, and it's going to be ok."  
I scoop my arms underneath her frail self, gently lifting her up.  
"I'm going to get us to help. And it's going to be ok love."  
I stagger to my feet, legs unsteady beneath me. As I force myself to step forward, I scream in agony. My leg. God my leg. My left leg is twisted, bent in all the wrong ways. I force myself to swallow the bile rising up my throat.  
"I'm sorry if I worried you love, just a little bruise, that's all."  
I can't scare her. Not now. Not at a time like this.  
I force myself forward, dragging my leg behind me, clenching my jaw to keep silent.

After far too long, the lights of the hospital eventually glimmer in the distance.  
"Almost there sweetheart, we're almost there my love."  
Time dragged on, and what felt like eons later, the front doors of the ER crawl open before us.  
"How can I help you?" The front desk receptionist drawls, not even looking up from her computer.  
"Please, help her." I gasp out. Her head lifts up in shock, and that's the last thing I see before my world fades to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chloe and Rachel live in the midwest.
> 
> Chloe uses they/them pronouns.
> 
> Max will come into the story later.
> 
> There will be more explanation later on the line, this is mostly just to set up the story.


	2. I'm sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chloe and Rachel were officially a couple in this universe. (Forgot to mention that last chapter, oops.)

_They're on top of me. One's pinning me down by my shoulders, the other reaching down._  
_'No, please. Stop'_  
_I hear her voice beg from feet away._  
_'Leave her alone!' I spit at him._  
_He chuckles 'So the dyke wants to play?' He slams his cupped hand against the side of my face. He laughs as she screams. Then reaches for my pants, pulling them as I struggle. 'Let us go, please, just let us go.' My voice cracks as he inches over me, hissing in my ear 'But then I we wouldn't have fun, now would we darlin'?'_  


I scream, bolting upright in my bed, covered in a thick sheen of sweat.  
It's been three months. Three months since the worst day of my life. Three months since I lost the love of my life.  
Every night is the same, the flashbacks haunting me. Jagged pieces of a fucked up puzzle collectively tumbling into place one by one. But as my mind begins to clear from its tormented haze, the doctor's voice comes back, always the same, echoing through my head.  
_I'm sorry, but she's gone._  
I had asked him what he meant. I screamed. I called him a liar. I sobbed and hit a wall and asked for him to show me. He said it wasn't a good idea. But I begged. Said I would never be able to get closer until I knew. Knew for sure.  
When I saw her body all I felt was horror and shock. I reached out, and the moment I felt her icy skin beneath my fingertips, is the moment all feeling drained out of me.  
After that is just a haze. I remember falling. Screaming.  
_Rachel? No, no. Not her. I'm sorry._  
I'm sorry.  
It's like it was a terrible nightmare, but at that moment I knew it was real. I knew it was the truth.  


_I'm sorry._  


They put me out with a sedative after that.  


_Empty, numb._  


At some point the police came by. Asked questions. I answered them as best I could, but it all was fuzzy. Like my mind was repeating parts in loops, but once I reached certain points there was a black wall blocking me out. They got frustrated and left.  
_I'm sorry._  


I feel like a failure for not remembering more. For not being able to help them more. Help her more. But now it comes crashing back, knocking me over in tidal waves. Mostly in my dreams, but occasionally when I'm awake. Although sometimes I can't tell the difference anymore.  
_Empty, numb._  


My mom showed up after that. That it's time to come home, telling me how we can't afford this. And although I know it's because mom spends her money on the booze to drink away the pain of step douche hitting her, I don't blame her. Cause if I was old enough I'd buy it as well, cause he hits me too. But it's my fault. Everything is my fault.  
_I'm sorry._  


So here I am, three months later. I've hardly stepped foot outside of my own room, let alone my house. Mostly just lying here, because to do anything else drains what little I have left inside of me. All I feel are the nightmares and the heavy blanket of comforting emptiness that soothes me once they have passed.  
And so I lie awake, waiting.  
Waiting.  
But tonight has different plans. Instead of the blanket, something else comes. A heavy weight against my chest. Like a hundred bricks crushing the breath out of my lungs. What's happening? The room is spinning and my mind is racing too fast. I can't keep up and I just can't deal with it all crashing down. Crashing.  
_Crashing._  


I can't take it anymore. If I stay here any longer I'm going to suffocate, or go insane.  
If I haven't already.  


And so I scramble up out of bed. Throwing on the nearest jacket and stuffing on my shoes and I run.  
I run.  
I run because maybe if I can go fast enough, maybe I can escape this.  
My nightmares.  
My memories.  
But they're all one of the same now, in a way.  
So I keep running until my legs burn and I'm gasping for breath.  
And I just can't keep going anymore.  
It's only then I realize it's still dark out. And it's only then I realize I ended up over at the old gas station where Rachel and I used to buy our cigarettes, starting way back when we were sixteen and had just first met. They didn't card us, all she had to do was give them that special look and they'd just give us them, no questions asked.  
I don't know when I started heading for the door, but now it's open and I hear the all too familiar greeting chimes. And I'm heading up and down the isles, reminiscing over all the shenanigans we had caused here, while trying to ignore that stabbing pain in my chest.  
Until I reach a certain isle.  
Upon seeing it, I freeze.  
_Oh shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun. Sorry for the cliffhanger. I just couldn't resist.
> 
> Also sorry for all the angst, but this is an angsty fic.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. On a bathroom stall

**3**

I remember the moment I came out to my mom. Well, not so much came out as much as was forced out. You see, my mom found out from some "well intentioned friend" that I had been going to the local glbt group in the city over. Pretty much the only city worth noting for miles. I was sixteen and had just gotten my license, so I was using it for the all the freedom I could.

As she was screaming, told her how I liked girls (she was freaking out so much already, I couldn't even imagine how she'd react to the fact I wasn't even one). She was in complete and utter shock. She cried. I was grounded. As she grounded me, she forced me to where "proper lady" clothing, and to grow my hair out. I was under house arrest for months, only being allowed to go to church and school. I was sent to a therapist, to be fixed. It did jack shit, and just wanted to die.

**2**

I was beat up at school. They called me all sorts of horrible things as they threw me into a locker. They hit me. Then kicked me. The only reason they stopped was because a teacher came down the hall. What hurt more than their fists was the reaction of when I told my mom. My own mother said maybe if I weren’t such a dyke they'd leave me alone. I never told her anything again.

**1**

And as I stare, I see _I fucking knew you would do this_ scrawled on the bathroom stall wall. And it had me contemplating all this shit about maybe this was inevitable. Maybe I had this coming all along and this was just an endless futile fight against destiny. To just be tortured time and time again for who I am.

**Times up**

I hold up my destiny in the form of a plastic stick. Two simple blue lines spell out my fate.

I'm pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry how short and how late this is.   
> Some personal shit happened, so I've been sorta MIA.  
> I hopefully will be updating more regularly again. Just wanted to let you guys sort know why.


End file.
